No Villains or Heros
by ClappingForTinkerbell
Summary: A short drabble. Before watching Episode 4X12...what I imagine the discussion would be like between Clarke and Bellamy in the rover...


It had been three hours since they'd seen any signs of life beyond the ancient trees lording above them, blocking their view of the hazy, sickly orange sky. No more huddled bodies, no more wails of despair, or worse, seeing the blank eyes of defeat that bore into Clarke deeper than any physical wound ever had, or ever could. She was thankful for that at least. The trees were still and strong, and she took a small comfort at the thought of their steadfastness despite the uncertainty that surrounded them. But even the massive cedars and pines were starting to thin as they neared the water. It was quiet, eerily so, save for the sound of gears and heavy wheels of the rover barreling through the muddy forest floor disrupting the placid nothingness.

Eight hours in the rover, then two more on the boat to Becca's Island. Get Raven. Get back. And then-And then what, exactly? She looked down at the timer on her wrist and swallowed thickly. 17 hours 21 minutes and 9 seconds

"We'll make it."

Clarke was startled. It took her a second to tilt her head up and look at Bellamy in question. Without taking his eyes of the path he replied, "You check your watch every 10 minutes."

Clarke gave a small cough and shifted in her seat. "You've been driving for six hours. Need a break?"

Grimly he replied, "Not tired. Must be the nap I took earlier."

He'd meant to make her flinch, and when she did, he hated himself for it. He wasn't angry at Clarke. Not really. On an intellectual level he understood why she had chosen to side with Jaha. How could he not? His choice meant he'd condemned his people to their deaths. Her choice would have saved them. - _But not Octavia_ , said a stubborn voice in his mind, _or Kane or Raven or Monty or Harper._ Not them. And they mattered.

His dig had caused them to fall back into the uncomfortable silence that seeped between the sparse discussions they'd had about which direction to take in order to shave valuable minutes off of their drive. It was an unnatural state to find themselves in-weary of each other, hesitant and out of sync.

"I'm sorry," he blurted. He wasn't certain what in particular he was sorry for, but it had to be said…whatever it took to rectify the breech between them.

She gave him a tired smile. "It's fine. I'm the one that should be apologizing." Clarke sighed deeply, "For the record, I understand why you had to open that door. You love your sister and she's your family. That's worth fighting for."

He responded with a curt nod.

She inhaled shakily, "I made my choice because I needed to know humanity would survive. I couldn't take the chance that you would do something that might ruin our chances."

He was silent.

"But when I saw you running up those stairs…" she sputtered, "You have to know that I could never hurt you…I would never…"

"I don't regret what I did. I had to save my sister. It had to be done. And because of it, 364 of our people are gonna die tomorrow. That's on me."

Clarke smiled sadly. That fact couldn't be refuted. "That's true. They will die. But Bellamy, 1100 people are gonna _live_ because of you."

He grunted. Neither scenario held a real victory. Either option came with dire repercussions, where in the end you weren't a villain or a hero…just the person with enough balls to make a choice.

"You made the better choice."

For a moment he shifted his attention off the path. Clarke's face was drawn as she pleaded her case, wanting him to know that he was good; that he was a good guy. And in that second, peering into her deep blue eyes, watching her worry her lower lip in concern, he believed her. "That shot you fired was pretty close to my ear. I'm lucky you have good aim. You must have had an awesome teacher."

Unknowingly she flushed, remembering the day trip to the bunker and the solid feel of him behind her, guiding her through the steps as she held her first gun. She shook off the feeling and tried for some levity, "I was aiming for your kneecap."

Bellamy raised a brow, "Then you need more lessons."

There was silence between them again, but this time it was companionable. The soft purr of the engine and the secure feeling she felt whenever Bellamy was on watch slowly lulled Clarke to sleep.


End file.
